


Violet Hours

by loopah



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Dirty Talk, F/M, M/M, One Shot Collection, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Poison, Rimming, Spanking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4264095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loopah/pseuds/loopah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scenes from Gotham City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night Drive

**Author's Note:**

> A collection of vignettes, all unrelated, all un-beta'd, and all very nsfw. Because I'm traaaaaaaash.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes they play at something dangerous. (Dick/Bruce, sex on the Batmobile)

"Do that again," Batman growls, breath hot and vile, sour and stale at once in Dick's face, teeth bared, "and I'll break your fingers. Capiche?"

In the far recesses of his mind, Dick catalogues that -- lesson one: don't try and finger the Batman.

He squirms, a whine welling up high in the back of his throat. He rocks his hips and tries in vain to fuck himself on Batman's cock, his feet scrabbling uselessly against the hood of the car in search of some kind of leverage. "Fuck, yeah, fine, I get it. Just-- Christ, fucking fuck me already, would you?"

Batman is grinning wide and feral, and whether he's tickled more by Dick's helpless struggling or his pathetic lapse in articulation, Dick isn't quite sure. He hears the _thunk_ of Kevlar hitting plated steel, and Batman is rolling onto his back. Dick is on top now, ropy muscled legs straddling powerful thighs, a cock in his ass buried up to the hilt. He wrinkles his nose and wriggles uncomfortably because it's just _too deep_ , so he lifts himself slowly to his knees, until all that is left inside is the tip, before he sinks back down -- harder, more purposeful, and with considerably less depth. Better. He rolls his head back and purrs, giving his hips a swivel. 

Batman watches, sprawled easily over the hood of the goddamned _Batmobile_ while Dick rides him, reaching with a big gloved hand to pull down the front of Dick's shorts. His cock springs free of its elastic restraint - no jock, Bruce notes; kid must be ballsy (no pun intended) or an idiot, or maybe he was just hoping he'd end up getting lucky - and bobs, flushed and erect. Dick sucks in a breath as the cool Gotham night air meets heated skin, and when Batman runs a gloved finger up along the underside, a shudder slithers through him and he whimpers, "Bruce."

That earns his cock a flick that makes him jerk. "Watch it," Batman warns, that lazy smirk replaced once again with a dangerous snarl. Dick bites his lip and continues to fuck himself, gradually building speed and twisting a bit each time he sinks back down on Batman's cock.

"Sorry, Batman."


	2. Bedside Manner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Bruce/Jason, sex pollen)

"I'm deeply sorry, Master Bruce," Alfred had said, "but it appears that there's nothing else to do but sweat this sickness out."

Bruce had gone to check on him, stood at his bedside for a moment and watched him. Jason didn't even realize that he'd come in. There wasn't much that Bruce could do for him in this delirium except go back to the cave and continue in his research for an antidote, so he'd started to leave. Until Jason flung his arm out and started groping for him, blindly, calling out to him _Bruce? Bruce, I'm so cold. Bruce, I need you to help me. Bruce, Bruce, please._

So now Bruce is hovering over Jason in his bed, both of them under the sheets, with his knee wedged between Jason's thighs, watching him _rut_ against it, face flushed and chest heaving. His hair is damp with perspiration, and Bruce slides a hand back through it, pushing it away from his face and noting just how hot his skin is to the touch.

He ducks his head to lick a long stripe up the side of Jason's neck, slick and sweat-salty. He feels fingers wound tight in his hair, pulling hard and sweet, Jason's mouth by his ear, panting hot, heavy breaths and whispering _Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me._

Bruce never could tell the boy no.


	3. Untitled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Jason/Damian, rimming)

Jason tears off Damian's linen pajama pants with all the grace and decorum of a freight train barreling through a cinder block wall.

 _Gonna peep me some of that dick,_ he sing-songs in his head, before, _Yeah, don't say that out loud, that sounds stupid._

He casts the garment onto the floor and sees it, rock hard and straining against the thin fabric of his underpants (briefs, Calvin Klein), white and tight around his tan, muscular thighs. _So much muscle, hard muscle_ \-- Jason thinks about it as his eyes dart around Damian's body, taking stock of all of them by name; firm pecs, taut obliques, sinewy deltoids, and fuck, Jason's sure his ass is just _delicious._ So he slides his hands beneath Damian, grips him tightly by the back of his thighs and tugs, grunting, "Flip over," in a voice that tightropes on the line between suggestive and demanding.

Damian quirks an eyebrow, an action that takes his expression from aggravatingly neutral to immaculately unimpressed. He isn't, however, one to be daunted, and so rolls over onto his stomach, turning to watch Jason through narrowed eyes. Not afraid, never afraid, but enduringly cautious and slow to trust. Jason doesn't meet Damian's scrutinizing gaze, however, because he's too busy staring in near-awe at his ass. It's glorious; dare he say, it's perfect. His glutes are tight, solid but still.. pliant. Touchable. Jason is able to look at it for maybe five seconds before he _has_ to get his hands on it, and so he slides his fingers under the waistband of Damian's briefs and yanks them down before sinking his teeth into the meat of his right ass-cheek. (Did he say hands? Yeah, he meant mouth.)

Damian is _floored._ He jolts forward, knuckles slamming into the wood of the headboard as his jaw drops, leaving his mouth hanging dumbly open. His eyes are wide and he squawks, "Todd!", staring incredulously at Jason, who unlatches with a cheeky smirk.

"Wayne," he returns loftily.

"What sort of depravity are you playing at, here?" Damian asks, jumping a little again when Jason fits both hands to his ass. Runs them down to the back of his thighs then back up again, thumbs reaching forward between his legs and brushing the underside of his balls for the barest moment before sweeping up the valley of his crack and spreading his cheeks, making Damian squirm.

"Well, princess, I was thinking I might eat you out. Tongue-fuck you until you cry and throat-fuck you until you choke. That's my kind of depravity. What do you say, doll?"

Damian half-yelps, dropping his face down into his hands and driving his hips down into the mattress. "You're disgusting," he gurgles weakly, but when Jason licks a stripe between his cheeks he rolls his hips again, a long shudder ricocheting down his spine.

"I'll take that as a yes."


End file.
